


Rescue Me

by teecups



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Sburb/Sgrub, Recovery, cuties being cuties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-26
Updated: 2012-07-26
Packaged: 2017-11-10 18:24:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/469292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teecups/pseuds/teecups
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Dave Strider and the last thing you remember is Jack's sword cutting through your chest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rescue Me

**Author's Note:**

> first homestuck fic posted. /squeal  
> DaveJade needs more love.

Though you would never admit it, she was your savior.

Jade had always had this knack for knowing what was to come, and what you were thinking. Of course, this witchcraft included seeing behind your shades. It was highly unsettling the first time you met her face to face, but after that you (surprisingly) got used to it. Sort of. No that's a lie, you still think it's pretty creepy. Sometimes it's like she would read your mind.

The game is over, or that's what the four of you keep telling yourselves. You've taken to long visits, as you all seem rather attached to your original homes. She knew then that the game wasn't really over. You could tell after the four of you had first met up, pressed together on your shitty couch. You remember shifting as John was speaking, avoiding a hole in the couch (Bro, God damn it) and looking up to find her staring off into space. She was somewhere else. Maybe preparing herself. The game was over physically, of course. Not mentally.

 

You try to breathe, you really do. You try from the rigid fetal position you have somehow gotten yourself into, but it's no use. Your name is Dave Strider and the last thing you remember is Jack's sword cutting through your chest. It hurts. It hurts and you hate remembering your own death, god damn it, there were so many.

You realize after a few minutes of wheezing into your bed sheets that your blankets are tangled uselessly around your legs. You hesitantly reach down to unsnare your legs from their cottony death when oh god, that's a horror terror. That's a horror terror and that's not cotton but tentacles, oh god, you've fucked up somewhere, Derse is spiraling into the Green Sun, you can feel the heat, this was never supposed to happen, how the fuck-

Your wheezing startles you back into your room, where you curl tighter into the fetal position. Your chest hurts and your head aches from the lack of air. You are eighteen years old and stuck in a round of flashbacks. Right about now, you wouldn't mind a little witch craft to get you out of this mess. Luckily, she hears you.

There's a soft rap on the door before she comes in. Jake is here too, mostly for bro. John was here the other day before he had to go back to school.  
"Dave?" you hear her call, and can only wheeze in reply. Then she's flicking the light in and closing the door, moving inside the room.

Her hair is just as wild as ever, you think distantly as she rests one knee on the bed, working her way towards you. You can't do much but watch her and try to breathe as she makes her way to you, baggy green t-shirt billowing in the breeze your fan creates. Your hand clenches and unclenches in your pillow as she works the sheets from your legs, spreading them back out over you. Already her presence is calming, spreading through the room like a cool breeze.  
It takes you a moment to realize she is trying to seperate you from your pillow. You jerk for a moment, wheeze rattling through the room, remembering pain and blood and burning before she shooshes you and takes your hands. The stiffness in your body is terrible, but you follow suit; ending up mostly in her lap. She smells faintly like spearmint and flowers. Her hand is rubbing small circles into your back, coaxing your lungs into functioning properly.

"Dreams again?" she asks quietly, trying not to break the silence sleep holds. You can only nod into her thigh as her trick seems to work and your lungs finally give you a break. You gulp the first real breath you've had in half an hour greedily, shuttering at the relief it gives you. 

Jade doesn't talk much. Instead, she hums under her breath, occasionally changing the pattern she traces on your back with nimble fingers. You don't mind- you're a man of few words, especially when you're like this. After only a few minutes of this, of Jade, your body has slackened and you can finally breathe like a normal human being. Her humming lulls you to sleep before you can thank her.

 

 

It's a few months later when you hear a crash from the kitchen. Usually you and whoever was in the apartment would yell 'OPA' like the dorks you were and laugh it off. Except John and rose went out to get food, and Jade- Jade is here but-  
Jade's not that clumsy-

You find yourself freestyle parkouring over the various objects littering the floor until you reach the kitchen.

She's sitting on the ground, knees drawn up to her chest. The remnants of a broken plate are scattered around her, and god her whole body is trembling. You've never seen her like this. Out of the four of you, she's actually seemed like the lucky one- the least effected by sburb.

"Jade." you state, ready to gauge her reaction. Except there is none. It's as if she can't hear you. You gingerly step over the remains of the plate, worry spreading through your veins like wildfire. Up close, you wonder if she's crying.  
"Jade." you state again, and you're just about to tap her on the shoulder when she erupts.

"HE'S HERE, HE'S IN THE SESSION AND HE'S BEEN HERE THE WHOLE TI-"

She finally looks at you. You've frozen in your spot, hand still in the air as she wrenched her body away from you. You know who she's thinking of. It's hard to not remember. She looks up at you, flushed and god she's crying this girl is going to break you, and oh she's bleeding. Oh.  
"You with me, Harley?" you ask quietly, waiting until her eyes refocus and she nods to stop hovering and slowly move away from her. Bandages are in the cupboard behind you.  
None of you are good with blood anymore. Especially not your own.  
You valiantly search for gauze (flail your arm in a distressed manner) in the cupboard before your hand finally closes on the box, going back to the girl on the floor as fast as you can without landing on top of her.

Jade reminds you of a sullen child as you crouch back down, carefully pulling her bloody hand towards you. She doesn't seem to reject your feather light touches until you start to wrap the mess that is the palm of her hand. Looks like it shattered in her hand. You hold back the whistle that you want to let fly at the sight of it. You're just about to wrap it when she tries to jerk away from you.  
"Hey-" You start, trying to keep her hand in yours. Her eyes are squeezed together, body rigid. You wonder if it's panic or worry running down your spine. Knowing you, it's the unholy mixture of both. Your poker face comes in handy as you reach around her, grabbing her by the waist and holding her to your side. She's not with you for the moment- you hold her so she can't hurt herself until you can finish your work (frantic patch job) with her hand.

She pulls away from you as soon as her hand is tied off. She seems calmer now. You sit next to her, arms wrapped loosely around your knees, waiting until she's ready to talk. You have a feeling you know what happened- she was washing dishes, tried to catch the plate, and that was it.

"I can still see the planets." she says quietly. Well, that wasn't what you were expecting. She sounds so broken. Your gut clenches. You look over at her and watch as she pulls her hands apart just like she used to. Only now, the planets don't appear.  
"But.. I'm always missing one. Always! And I can never tell which one." You watch, pokerface still intact (beginning to fracture) as she glances at her hand for what you think is the first time in the last few minutes. The dawning expression on her face says a lot. Your chest does this funny thing where it decides to not let you breathe for a moment.  
"Why haven't you said anything?" you ask, and you have a feeling you already know the answer to that before she speaks-

"Everyone is hurting." She says, her eyes going to her hand. "I.. don't want to make things worse!" 

There we go.

==> Dave: comfort.  
How do?

==> Dave: woo with sloppy makeouts  
... No. Oh my god, no.  
(Though you can't deny you want to and suddenly your mind is on other things-)

==> Dave: commence cuddles.  
Ok. You can do that.

Slowly, so you don't startle her into another fit, you reach to your side and pull her towards you. She stiffens at first, not entirely sure what you're doing, and then buries her face into your chest. You wrap your arms around her, a little surprised at her sudden eagerness.

You start rubbing small circles into her back, feeling her shudder in your arms. The front of your shirt feels suspiciously wet. You know your massage is working when she starts to relax. "We help each other." You start, when you think she's calm down enough to hear you. "That's the way it's always been. You need to talk to us." You hear her sniff before she nods into your chest. Relief spreads through you like wildfire. Her head fits perfectly under your chin.

You gently kiss her forehead in a manner that is so unironic, lil cal would shit himself.


End file.
